


We’ll Keep In Touch

by ohnomatopoeia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Background Relationships, Gen, Kuron is Shiro (Voltron)'s Clone, Letters to Home, Light Angst, Minor Spoilers, Narrative, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Vague depictions of violence, brief mention of sheith, it’s sort of hinted at
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-26 08:37:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13854057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohnomatopoeia/pseuds/ohnomatopoeia
Summary: Commander Samuel Holt returns home with four tapes containing messages to the families of the lost Paladins.





	We’ll Keep In Touch

**Author's Note:**

> i got this idea straight after finishing season five. it has minor spoilers, but nothing too intense, aside from Sam obviously being found. 
> 
> this is definitely not my usual style of writing, given it’s mostly dialogue-narrative and exposition, but i think it flows well with how Shiro might speak with his family.

Silence. Shiro gathered his thoughts. So much had happened in the time he’d been with Voltron, yet it felt as though there wasn’t much to say. The microphone stared back at him, like it was challenging him to think of something clever to say. It had been recording for fifty seconds now. Fifty seconds of white noise and the muffled sound of Shiro shuffling around with agitation.

He cleared his throat. “... Shirogane Takashi, age twenty-six. March 1st, 20XX.”

And that was his intro. It was curt and formal, but it was Shiro. He couldn’t just start with some ecstatic greeting to his family. Whatever family he had. Harumi and Ran hadn’t talked to him in years after he began at the Garrison. Little Tomoe must be thirteen now. His mother never supported leaving Japan for work in America, especially in the dusty Arizona desert. She had told him it was disrespectful and shameful to search for work away from his homeland. That it was a disgrace. His father had encouraged a career in law or medicine, or even carrying on the family business. And yet Shiro became a pilot after schooling, against his family’s wishes. If only they knew what he’d gotten himself into.

Shiro had waited another thirty seconds before speaking again. “Happy birthday to me. I turned twenty-six yesterday. Things are good.”

_What am I saying? ‘Things are good?’ Things are never just ‘good’._

“Um,” he started again, toes curling inside of his boots. “As you all know, I went on the Kerberos Mission with Commander Holt and his son, Matthew. Things didn’t go as planned… I don’t know how to put this lightly, but there is more life than you can ever imagine out there. You know,” he started with a weak laugh, “It’s actually kind of funny. The very reason we went on this mission was to take samples to determine if there could even be a _mere possibility_ of alien life. You already know that. And _oh_ , the irony.”

Another long pause.

“On Kerberos, the three of us were taken prisoner on an alien ship. They’re worse than the sci-fi movies show. Bigger, more powerful. More diverse. Sam was split apart from Matt and I. I believe he was sent to a sort of Galra labor camp, and later working against his will on Galra technology. Matt and I were forced to compete in gladiator matches. Except I knew Matt wouldn’t last. Myself? I don’t know. I was willing to take that risk. As long as it ensured Matt some extra time. I mean, he wouldn’t last a second against those guys… Not then, at least. He’s grown so much since then. Anyway— I made the impulsive decision to injure Matt so he couldn’t fight, and so I took to the ring in his place. I won. They put me up against bigger opponents and… and I killed them all. Prisoners like myself at first. And later haughty Galra who thought they could take me. I beat them all… enough that my matches were getting boring and repetitive. I buffed up, too, I guess. Not by much. But enough that it’s noticeable under clothes.”

Shiro rested his elbows down on the table now. “Mom, don’t let Tomoe listen to this part. She doesn’t need to know. But I have to say it.”

Twenty seconds of silence.

“They took me into a holding cell and did whatever they liked with me. Just for the fun of it. Entertainment. Something to make the days go by. I could’ve died with all the things they did. But they kept me alive and drugged up.” _Not enough that I didn’t feel the pain_ , Shiro wanted to say. _The pain reminded me I was still alive._

“I was a lamb to the goddamn slaughter,” Shiro’s voice shook. “... At some point, they decided to operate on me. Test just how much machine could replace man. I’m part Galra now; my right arm. I’ve never been able to figure out how to remove it. I’ve considered cutting what’s left of my arm off. I can’t write anymore— but not that I’ve needed to. It’s hard and uncomfortable to sleep on. It doesn’t rust in water either. I don’t feel the arm or what it feels… just a phantom pain of what used to be there.”

He lowered his head into his hands.

“They were going to push the limits and replace me bit by bit, but they only ever got to my arm. A rebel Galra named Ulaz helped me escape in a pod to Earth. I was dazed and getting used to my new arm, but I made it back safely.”

He leaned back in his seat slowly, thinking over his next words. At least the part about his capture was over now. Besides, he was going chronologically. It’s easier to keep track of.

“Now, you’re probably thinking, ‘Oh, why isn’t Takashi home yet?’ Well, I was on Earth for no more than an hour. I crash-landed at the Galaxy Garrison— lucky circumstances— and was taken into immediate custody. I tried to explain to them what had happened, but I was delusional with my poor health and all. So they deemed me crazy and worthy to run a few tests on. The last thing I remember is being strapped down to a table and sedated. I woke up in Keith’s home— you know Keith. I told you about him a few times… don’t know if you’d remember. He’s a.. he’s…”

_That’s a touchy subject, Takashi. Don’t go bounding into dangerous territory._

“He’s a good friend of mine.”

_That’ll do._

“He had been researching some strange occurrences in the area, and I won’t go into details, but we went out to explore and it changed our lives forever. It was me, Keith, and three other students at the Garrison; Lance, Hunk, and Pidge. Long story short, we find a robotic lion, and it decides Lance is its favorite. Anyway, it takes us to this castle in space, where we meet the aliens Allura and Coran of Altea, though their planet has been long gone for ten-thousand years. They were also supposedly the only remaining Alteans. We’re told we have been chosen to save the universe in this giant robot called Voltron, made up of five robotic lions. I pilot Black, the leader and head of Voltron. As I mentioned earlier, the Galra are the leading force in the universe’s control, and they’re anything but good. So we were tasked with ‘defending the universe’.” Shiro made air-quotes around the phrase. He was growing bored of explaining this. It was something second-nature to him now… It was like explaining to someone how they walked. He was also losing his train of thought.

“I’m going to speed this up, because I’m well over ten minutes now and this hasn’t been the least bit interesting, has it? Knowing your family member is okay is really all that matters, right? We’ve been slowly taking away the Galra’s power and keeping the universe safe and at peace. We’ve made such an impact already, but there’s still a long way to go before we achieve true peace within this universe.”

He felt another throbbing headache coming on, something that had only been occurring since his second capture. It didn’t feel right. Shiro was about to wrap up the message, when another thought came to mind.

“I don’t know who I am anymore. I’m still me, but I’m not. It feels like there’s two or three different me’s within one body. And it’s only been like that since my second capture— which I didn’t mention, but it happened. I don’t remember much at all—” He paused, leaving over a minute of silence in the recording. With a deep inhale after his break, he continued.

“I think something has gone terribly wrong with me… My time with the Galra is too vague not to have had something happen. I mean, I’m me. I still laugh at the same jokes and I remember most memories and I still like the same foods… but my relationships with the team has changed. I… I don’t even see Keith anymore. Last I heard from him was through a live video screening. And it’s never just us anymore. Always business. Always for the betterment of the universe. I don’t know anymore. I’ve been acting out aggressively too… I don’t feel like my thoughts are my own. Certain memories are being erased.. I can tell. Because I search for something to recollect in my head and I can’t find anything of it. There’s remnants, just small phrases and clips of memories. It’s not me… I’m not me. I’m just… I’m a drone. Somethi—“

A sharp pain rolled from Shiro's head and all the way down his spine. It was burning and aching, radiating like a slapped sunburn but throbbed with his heartbeat. He groaned out, hands gripping he sides of his head. He shot up from the chair, knocking it over in the process and creating a rather loud ruckus for the recording.

The screams of pain went on for fifteen seconds before Shiro became lucid enough to remember what he had been doing.

“Nn—! … End recording!”


End file.
